Chapter Twenty-One: The Spring of Blood and Earth

I stared coldly at Fatty Zuo and said, "You forgot to disengage the safety." Fatty moved the gun away from my forehead, retorting, "How do you turn it off?" I snatched the gun from him and, with a click, released the safety, pressing the barrel back against his temple. Fatty Zuo’s face turned ashen. "For God’s sake, don’t let it go off by accident."

I asked where he’d gotten the thing.

He replied, "It’s a replica, but still packs a punch. I just knew you couldn’t figure out a way to deal with that beast, so I brought a little extra insurance. If you actually die, don’t blame me—I did my best."

We fell into silence.

When we entered the village, chaos reigned. Villagers scrambled to move their belongings, carrying valuables like electronics up the hill, stacking furniture on the upper floors. Uncle Chang Geng, the new village chief, was orchestrating the frantic scene. He explained that it was an old tradition: when the ancient locust tree at the Wax Road Gate weeps, Grandfather Yellow River is passing—floods are on the way, and preparations must be made.

I wondered aloud why I’d never heard of this rule.

Uncle Chang Geng replied, "Of course you haven’t. The last time the old locust wept, I was only eight, and your grandfather hadn’t even moved to the village yet."

Fatty Zuo and I exchanged a bewildered glance. In each other’s eyes, I saw confusion.

The madwoman, Junjun’s mother, had once said that Grandfather Yellow River warned her: we’d meddled with a treasure from the river, and when the old locust wept, everyone in the village would die.

Could she have been telling the truth?

Fatty Zuo asked where Junjun’s mother was.

Uncle Chang Geng said, "The lunatic is kneeling under the old locust, welcoming Grandfather Yellow River. Leave her be. By the way, Xiaopi, are you moving your family's junk?"

We ignored him and bolted toward the ancient locust at the village entrance.

The sky was pitch-black, wind howling, debris swirling. The colossal tree shook violently, its branches thrashing. Two long wounds split the trunk, as if the bark had peeled away naturally. From these gashes, bright red sap oozed down, looking for all the world like tears streaking down a face.

The Yellow River wailed, slapping against the Wax Road Gate, sending up long ribbons of spray.

Junjun’s mother knelt with her hair loose, looking like some shaman, arms raised, crying out, "Let the flood come! Wash away all the black-hearted ones!" Our arrival startled her; she turned, grinned slyly, and then turned back to kowtow toward the river. "Grandfather Yellow River, the one cursed for three lifetimes is here! Ride on my shoulders, take him and feed him to the turtles! Hahaha!"

She knew about my three-lifetime curse too?

"Grab her!" I shouted at Fatty Zuo.

We rushed at Junjun’s mother, but she sprang up suddenly, bared her teeth at us with a feral grin, then dove headlong into the Yellow River, vanishing before our eyes.

The river’s wailing grew louder, the wind more violent.

My third uncle ran over, urging us up the mountain—"The flood’s coming, hurry!"—then took off in a panic.

Fatty Zuo frowned. "Xiaopidian, there’s something wrong with that locust tree. Let’s chop it down."

I was out of my mind with panic, but I trusted Fatty Zuo. We ran to the tree, and I swung my curved blade at its weeping trunk. To my shock, the blade sank in halfway as easily as cutting tofu. Startled, I tried to pull it out for another swing, but the old locust suddenly cracked and split apart. From the wound, a fountain of bright blood gushed forth, reeking so powerfully of rot and iron that I nearly retched.

I leaped back in fright.

Fatty Zuo’s beady eyes gleamed with excitement. "It really is a blood spring—there’s treasure inside!" Without hesitation, he sprawled over the opening to peer inside. Suddenly, a massive, blood-soaked hedgehog burst out, its eyes scarlet, quills bristling like swords, staring at us with deadly intent.

Fatty Zuo shouted, "There really is a guardian beast!"

Before he could finish, the giant hedgehog hurled itself at him. Fatty Zuo agilely leaped aside, narrowly avoiding it, but one of its blood-drenched quills grazed his fat backside, making him howl and clutch his butt as he circled the blood spring. The hedgehog curled into a ball and rolled after him like a boulder.

Panicked, I drew my blade and hacked at the creature. Several thick quills flew off, tearing flesh with them. Enraged, it sprang at me.

"Bang!" Fatty Zuo fired, but missed.

I dodged with a donkey roll, and the hedgehog crashed into the earth, gouging a deep pit. I shuddered—if it struck a person head-on, it would punch bloody holes straight through.

The hedgehog, undeterred, hissed blood mist and charged again. I swung at it, but it feinted, twisting in midair and bolting away. Two more shots rang out—Fatty Zuo missed again.

Suddenly, the hedgehog staggered, collapsed, and lay twitching on the ground. I looked up to see a plump, round, yellow-and-white creature spitting sticky fluid at it.

How had it come here?

Fatty Zuo gaped. "What is that?!"

I muttered, dumbfounded, "The thing that ate my book."

Fatty Zuo shook it off. "No matter, there’s treasure in the blood spring—while the hedgehog’s out cold, let’s grab it!" He waddled furiously to the spring, rooting around inside.

Thunder roared, lightning flickered, and black clouds billowed.

Fatty Zuo seemed to have grabbed onto something inside the spring, his face flushed with exertion as he shouted for me to help. I plunged my hand into the icy, blood-filled pit, grasped something, and together we hauled it out.

What we pulled up left us both dumbstruck.

We had dragged up a long lock of hair, followed by the blood-drenched head of a woman.

As the head emerged, so did her body—a woman’s corpse, dressed in ornate ancient robes, lifelike in appearance. The style was clearly old, but her flesh looked fresh, her face full and youthful. Yet as soon as we pulled her free, her body instantly withered and blackened, turning mummified as flesh sloughed off in chunks.

Fatty Zuo kicked the corpse away, cursing, "Where’s the coffin? Why the hell is it just a body?" He plunged his hands back into the blood spring, searching furiously.

Seeing the storm about to break, I urged him to stop, but before I could finish, the spring erupted, splattering us with blood.

The stench was overwhelming. Then the blood began to dilute, replaced by torrents of muddy Yellow River water, teeming with silt, weeds, and fish. Even more horrifying, the spring split open wider, gaping as wide as a r